Discovery
by Piezelle
Summary: Connor finds an assassin. This fic was just from my dA moved here


****This is from my dA account, and I wanted to post it up here. I was getting tired of seeing nothing in my profile ehe. Enjoy.

Connor Kenway belongs to Ubisoft. Charlotte is my OC

**Discovery**

The sounds of a piano being played reached Connor's ears as he entered James' home. The Loyalist's daughter was there, back turned on him as he entered the house silently. To others it would seem that she didn't hear him come in, but Connor knew she was alert. He sheathed his bloody tomahawk and walked towards her, muscles tense. Charlotte's hands flew over the keys as she played a really complex but calming piano piece, eyes closed as if she was feeling the emotions flow through her. He really needs to know. _Now_. The Assassins weren't really giving him a whole week to find out.

And so he announced himself by clearing his throat; he watched Charlotte as she tensed and twisted around to see who interrupted her music playing, dark brown eyes wide with fear. She relaxed when she realized who it was. "Oh, hello, Connor," she said with a smile. It looked strained, though. "I thought you'd be coming later this afternoon to talk with my father."

Connor shook his head no. "I'm not here to talk with your father," he said. "I want to talk to you."

A strange expression flicked across Charlotte's face, somewhere between the lines of surprise and suspicion; it was gone in the next moment, as if Connor's never seen it. "Oh…" she stood and started to head to the back of the house. "Would you like some tea?"

"No." Connor stepped closer to the young woman. "I need to talk with you, _now_. Don't try and distract me from what I need," he said.

Charlotte faced him and nodded meekly. "What do you need?" she asked.

"I need answers." Confusion crossed her face. Connor scowled. "Stop covering up; it's pathetic."

Charlotte stared open-mouthed at him for a few moments before she shook her head. "I don't know what kind of answers you want." She sighed and looked away. "Maybe some news about the Redcoat's whereabouts is what you're talking about?"

"No." Connor sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. This mission was getting awry; how should he pry the answers out of her without her immediately jumping to her defense? "… you _do_ know about the recent killings about high-ranking Redcoats, yes?" he asked.

For a moment he thought he saw Charlotte flinch. "Yes; my father talks about them a lot." She shivered. "They were horrible people. Sometimes I think they deserved to die."

"And yet you're a Loyalist." Charlotte froze and stared up at Connor. _Bingo_. "Why are you helping me?" he's found the weak spot of the subject and started to press on that. "Why do you defy your father?"

"I…" anger flicked across her face. "You _know_ I don't go against my father. Why are you accusing me of such things?"

"Three days in a row, important Redcoats were killed by a person not working with the Assassins," he reported, looming over her now. "Those same three days, I see you're tired and moody." She took a step back. "One night I find the person saving someone being harassed by three men, and he has a scar on his mouth." He reached out and traced the faint line running down one side of Charlotte's mouth. "Just like you."

Charlotte scoffed; something so unlike her. "Many people can get a scar over their mouths out of carelessness or other reasons; don't just compare me to the killer running about." She stepped away.

"I'm a killer too," Connor deadpanned. "But I do it to bring peace to everyone here."

"Just like that mystery killer," Charlotte retorted. "So, what are you going to do once you find out who he is?"

"We don't know," Connor lied. "Some say he must die." He watched Charlotte's hand twitch slightly. _Another sign_. "Others say he should join the Order."

Charlotte was slipping; he knew it, and he watched the young woman falter in her step as she walked to the doorway and pick up a basket. "And what if he doesn't?" she insisted. "You can't just catch him and say: 'Hey, join the Order or we'll have to kill you'."

"That's an amusing thought," Connor commented, "But in all seriousness, I find him similar to you in many ways."

Charlotte was about to leave, but she turned and faced him with a raised eyebrow. Her calm demeanor was starting to deteriorate; it showed in her wry smile. "Similar how?"

It all happened fast: First Connor took long strides towards her and raised a fist; Charlotte swung the basket to bat his outstretched arm away and sent a swift punch to his face. Connor quickly ducked out of the way and faced an incoming basket being thrown at him; he started to cough as flour flew out of it and clouded his vision for a few moments. He waved it away and burst out into the streets, searching for the woman.

Charlotte was already gone. Connor knew the truth, though: She's the assassin.


End file.
